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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794455">Onyx Nightingales</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalDice/pseuds/CrystalDice'>CrystalDice</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bickering, Big Q is struggling :(, Bonding, Bro Time, Guys I forgot to mention Techno how dare I, Hurt/Comfort, I just love their friendship agh, I tried making them as in character as possible don't kill me, Oml Tommy's being a softie, Rest of SBI are only mentioned, This is my first time using this what, Tommy's here to help, Wish me luck, chatting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:01:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,621</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794455</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystalDice/pseuds/CrystalDice</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Under the stresses of the real world, Quackity finds himself sitting at the top of the Sleepy Boi's roof, finding calm in the stars and hoping, maybe, it'd tire him out. Tommy finds him, and they talk.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tommy &amp; Quackity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Onyx Nightingales</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first time using this website but, like, I mean first time for everything right lmao go off<br/>Uhm this is just me using Quackity for angst purposes because he's my new groove and I want more fics with him in them that aren't an abusive Schlatt y'know<br/>In this, he is bonding with the SBI's because Phil has decided omg I need a new son so here we are<br/>Quackity, obviously, dislikes the fact they're trying to take care of him but like aggressive found family I guess<br/>I have a tone more fic ideas for this sort of modern AU, I'll probably write them out despite anything else so<br/>Yeah, nothing else to really say, enjoy! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He can’t sleep. </p><p>His eyes are wide awake, open and staring up at the blank popcorn ceiling above him. He traces patterns and shapes through the little bumps and cracks, finding pictures that aren’t there. </p><p>It’s a quiet night in the house, one where exhaustion has fully taken the residents’ inside over completely and forced them all to go to sleep early. He wishes he could be one of the ones asleep right now, but his head is running a mile a second, and there’s a pit in his stomach that makes him feel sick.</p><p>He has his blinds open, spilling light from a nearby streetlamp across his walls, orange and flickering where the bulb soon needs to be changed. It’s very late, and he knows this as the clock Wilbur had gotten him for his birthday ticks annoyingly, the hour hand on 2. He focuses on the ticking the best he can, but it escapes him and he’s back in the hive of his own mind, worries galore painted across the walls. </p><p>He’s lost in his own head, worrying about things he knows he shouldn’t be worried about just quite yet, but unable to control it. </p><p>There are so many things he’s panicking about. Too many to count, too many to push through and sleep through like he so usually does. They’re echoing in his ears, swirling around him like dark grey storm clouds, poised to attack with a lightning strike that would be the one push he needs to begin crying.</p><p>He groans heavily, irritated by his head and his inability of shutting the thoughts up, pushing himself into a sitting position to stare out the window. The streets are empty, distant lights from the actual city making him feel better that he’s not the only one up. </p><p>He has school in the morning, he can’t afford this. But at the same time, he can’t control it. </p><p>The streetlamp casting light and shadows across his room is right outside, long and tall and slim, splashing visibility across a small patch of the street. The light flickers again, sending that one area into darkness, and then comes back on, it’s time running out. Much like his. </p><p>He sighs a small sigh, something so minute and tiny he can’t even hear it in his own ears. His eyes are lidded, heavy with exhaustion and his limbs feel stiff and lazy where he has his hands cradled in his crossed legs. </p><p>There’s something so nice about the night. He’s not sure if it’s the silence, the solitude, the isolation, the night sky, or the knowledge that he’s the only one awake in the house, but it is. Something about it is just so mystifying and whimsical, a therapeutic calming setting that has a bittersweet feeling blooming in his chest. He’s not surprised when his head manages to get through to him a suggestion of going outside and sitting on the roof. </p><p>He only sits there a few minutes until he makes up his mind, knowing it’s better than just sitting here pathetically and staring out into a city that he’ll never be able to memorize. </p><p>He throws on a sweater, knowing it’s a cold night of September and that the air will be chilly with bite. His thick pyjama bottoms are sure to get dirty on the roof, and he knows Tommy will make him wash them, but he doesn’t change them, grabbing his phone and creeping out into the silent hallway. </p><p>Everyone is asleep, doors shut and lights off. The entire house is silent and still, aside from the hum and thrum of the washing machine just downstairs, reminding him that he isn’t alone here. Both a comfort and a worry. </p><p>He walks to the window just at the other end of the hall, carefully unlocking the hatches. It opens smoothly, no doubt the work of Phil who had become annoyed at the constant whining of the windows joints.</p><p>Cold air greets him as he crawls out, curling around his body, searching for openings and ways in through the small vulnerable areas of his clothes, looking for weakness. He can feel the cold slipping through tiny openings into the baggy openness of his shirt, but it doesn’t scare him away. </p><p>He closes the door behind him and gently and carefully begins his climb up the side of the roof, praying the loose shingles wouldn’t make an attempt on his life. He keeps his feet light and swift, knowing if he were to take his time the shift of his weight would make the ceiling creak and he’d be found, and he wants to be alone now. His only therapy. </p><p>At the ridge of the roof, he takes a cautious seat on the sharp curve at the top, shivering in his sweater and placing his feet more firmly onto the shingles, facing his body to where the moon hung big and proud in the sky. It was full, a creamy colour that was surrounded by much tinier, littler stars all flickering their own light sources at him. It was almost like they were saying hi. </p><p>He smiles softly, breathing out a deep exhale, watching his breath escape and drift towards the night sky to meet the many stars up there. He marvelled at the inky blackness, picking out each and every star he could see, twinkling alone. </p><p>Staring at the starry night sky always made him feel better, finding a sort of eerie calm that came with the existential crisis feeling he often got from it. He just felt less alone staring at the stars, millions of lightyears away. It was crazy to think that some of those stars up there were dead, the last bit of their light travelling it’s last journey to reach his planet. He wishes he could go out to some remote area either alone or with a friend and just sit there and stare at the sky. He wants to see the Milky Way up there in all its glory, bedazzled with planets and colours. </p><p>He inwardly scowls, cursing the fact he lives in a city where light pollution exists and he can’t see the stars in their full glory. Being a human being is so difficult. His problems only exist to him, and even then they’re so minute and small in the grand scheme of things. They don’t matter, really. Just a speck in the billions upon billions of space in the Universe. Nothing compared to everything. </p><p>He shivers, pulling on his sweater a bit tighter a small breeze of cold wind, wrapping its cold dead claws around him and carding through his hair. He realizes, with a small jolt, he’s forgotten his beanie. Left somewhere forgotten on the mess of sheets and blankets. No wonder he’s so cold. </p><p>He decides, though, he doesn’t want to go all the way back in just to retrieve a hat. He’s alone, there’s no need to worry about his rule of no one being able to see his hair. </p><p>“Big Q?” </p><p>Well, he /was/ alone.</p><p>Before he can stop himself he’s yelping, twisting his body almost violently around and nearly slipping and falling. Tommy takes a lunging step forward and grabs his arm before he can slide and plummet into the thorn lined bushes below, tugging him back to the safety of the precarious ridge of the roof. </p><p>“Jesus Christ,” He exclaims, feeling his limbs shudder with adrenaline, settling back down as Tommy slowly let go of his arm now that there was no threat. </p><p>“What are you so fuckin’ jumpy for?” Tommy snorts, swinging his legs over to take a similarly precarious seat as well, giving Quackity an only slightly judging look. </p><p>Quackity places a hand over his rushedly beating heart, feeling the thumping beneath his ribcage and chest, focusing on it as he calmed himself, chuckling a soft little chuckle. “I wasn’t really expecting anyone to find me up here, Tommy,” he sighed, amused as he gave Tommy a pointed little glare. “Could’ve killed me.” </p><p>“You would /not/ have died from that,” Tommy snaps back, rolling his eyes as he shivers at a smaller breeze, crossing his arms tightly into his chest, covered with a thick jacket. </p><p>“You literally don’t know that,” Quackity chooses to huff back, both serious and amused as he took to looking back out at the city lights, watching the flash of a red and orange firework light up a faraway neighbourhood, the distant pop almost too far away to hear.</p><p>He can feel Tommy shifting a bit, no doubt uncomfortable where he was sitting, and Quackity couldn’t blame him. The sharp ridge he had found refuge on kind of hurt, but he refused to move with such a nice and open view of the sky.</p><p>“I do, actually,” Tommy muttered as he fell still, a bit of attitude there Quackity felt the corner of his lip involuntarily quirk at.</p><p>They drift into silence for a moment, Quackity having nothing to say, or really ready to start a conversation. The silence was filled by the wind and distant city noises, the occasional car with bright headlights passing by down on the road. It was peaceful for a moment, basking in each other's company. Tommy ends up taking the initiative, ever the one to never be able to sit in silence with another person.</p><p>“So, why are you out here? It’s bloody freezin’,” Tommy asks, sounding both curious and like he almost doesn’t want to know the answer. For whatever reason.</p><p>Quackity sighs heavily, knowing the question was coming whether he was ready or not. It was a simple question with a simple enough answer, but he would have to dig through his thoughts for hours if he were to pick out every single reason he was out here. There were many, all coming to life in his head at the reminder of why he was out here, the tranquillity he had been experiencing long gone. </p><p>“It’s. . . nothing you really need to worry about,” he settles on saying, deciding he'll only Tommy about his problems if the boy wants to hear about it. Talking and venting to someone who doesn’t care isn’t something he can handle, as vulnerable and delicate as he feels right now.</p><p>Tommy takes a second longer than he needs to answer, his voice coming out soft and careful like Quackity would fall over the edge just from the bluntness of his question. “Do you. . . want to talk about it?” </p><p>Quackity side-eyes him, finding Tommy is already looking at him, big eyes looking too awake to have just been sleeping. </p><p>“I have a lot of things going through my head right now,” he tries for a small joke, a smile on his lips that he can’t tell is plastered on or not. “Might be a bit much for you to handle.” </p><p>A spark of determination flutters in Tommy’s eyes, his uncertainty vanishing as an air of seriousness washes over them both. “I can listen to people, Big Q. I don’t have the attention span or inconsideration of a child,” he scoffs, sounding almost offended that Quackity thought he couldn’t handle someone's problems. “Now, tell me what’s going on. It’s not every night I find you out here sitting on our roof.” </p><p>Quackity breathes a soft amused laugh, though it echoed more than he wanted and gave off a feeling of sadness he could feel crawling unpleasantly under his skin. “Well,” he starts, biting at his lip, wishing he were online so this could be easier, “I guess I’m just worrying about a bunch of really stupid things.” He frowns at his words, wondering if maybe what he was worried about would be considered stupid to Tommy. </p><p>A warm touch on his arm startled him, jolting his head to the only person here, finding a serious and truthful look there that had him feeling surprisingly comfortable. </p><p>“Quackity,” Tommy starts, and the lack of nickname already has captivated Quackity’s attention, “whatever has you feeling like this certainly isn’t stupid. I’m here to listen, so talk.”</p><p>Somehow, the rough and near angry optimism is enough, Quackity laughing something near genuine, feeling much better as he nodded, turning back to look out at the stars. Tommy’s warm hand leaves too soon, but he’s closer than before now so that makes up for the loss of contact.</p><p>“I’m just worried about my future,” Quackity finally gets out, finding it confusingly hard to spit out as his throat roughens and threatens to close. Tommy stays silent when he pauses, which he thanks. He’s not sure where he’s taking this, his thoughts unorganized and sporadic, jumping around with no pattern or rhythm to them. “And about what I’m going to do for a job.” </p><p>He hesitates a second before he spills into a long ramble, taking advantage of his time.</p><p>“I have no real plan for my future, or what I want to be and I feel so left out because I don’t know and it seems like everyone else does. There are so many things I probably could do, but I don’t know how to reach those goals because I guess I’m just too lazy to? I’m not sure. That’s just what everyone has been saying because I feel trapped and I feel stuck so I haven’t done anything to move out of this hole I just keep digging and making bigger and bigger. I have no motivation, and I know that’s the only thing that will keep me alive in the long run but I have no idea what to do to get it back.”</p><p>An irritated, angry breath leaves him as he clasps his shaking hands together, curling his nails in and welcoming that grounding pain that has gotten him through so much. </p><p>“I’m failing all my classes,” he admits softly, nibbling at the inside of his cheek as he pretends to be talking to someone who isn’t there, just to feel better about spilling the entirety of who he is. “I’m trying to get better but I can’t and my parents have given up on buying tutors for me after finding out they aren’t helping and that I’m apparently too fucking dumb when in reality they just don’t know how to do their goddamn job.” Venom takes hold of his words, coming out in an angry spit that he can feel burning his tongue. “My cat fucking died just a week ago,” he says again before he can stop himself, and that gets a nonverbal reaction from Tommy Quackity can feel searing through his jacket. His companion stiffens but he pays him no mind. “I’m still getting over that. I just have some family stuff going on that isn’t really important, but I guess that’s about it. I have no future, I’m shit at my classes, and my cat is gone. How great is that?”</p><p>A bitter barking laugh escapes him, void of any humour he may have tried to get into it. He isn’t expecting anything from Tommy, knowing the guy doesn’t know how to deal with emotions or, let alone, how to comfort someone. So he’s surprised when Tommy uses his own form of comfort and starts talking anew.</p><p>“No one has any fucking idea what they’re doing as a future job, Big Q,” Tommy snorts, sounding so genuinely amused it has Quackity frowning.</p><p>“But you know what-” he tries protesting, but Tommy cuts him off with a surprisingly gentle smile as he butts in, “no, I don’t."</p><p>“I pretend like I do, but I don’t. I have Youtube, sure, but how long do you think that’s supposed to last me, Big Q? Sure, I could probably keep it going but how long until I get burnt out? There’re so many variables you need to take into account to see, realistically, how long anyone will keep their job, or how to get the job in the first place,” Tommy shrugs and seems as unbothered as ever as he stares up at the stars, though Quackity’s sure it’s to get away from his disbelieving stare. </p><p>“Well, Phil has had his job for a while. Nine years, right?” Quackity asks, and Tommy nods. </p><p>“Some people are built for whatever job they find. They get lucky. And, obviously, some of us don’t. It really is just the truth of life, Big Q. Some people are better at things that others aren’t,” Tommy says simply, his eyes looking bright and accepting. “Phil went through at least five jobs before he landed the one he has now,” he continues, taking Quackity by surprise. </p><p>“Five jobs?” He asks, baffled and amazed. </p><p>“Mhm,” Tommy hums, nodding. “But he’s made it to a job he likes, adopted kids he’s raised for years, has a good friend group, and most of all he’s happy where he is. But that took years, big Q. He had no idea what he wanted to do, either, but he’s made it here despite it all and I find that amazing.”</p><p>“God, Tommy, when did you become so wise and philosophical?” Quackity laughs, both looking for an actual answer and content with not knowing. </p><p>“It might be because I’m looking at it rationally, Big Q,” Tommy grumbles, though his amusement is palpable. His light-hearted expression goes a bit more serious and sad again before Quackity can even respond in kind, though his eyes never once leave the sky overhead. “I’m sorry about your cat,” he says, softly, so genuine and careful about possibly misstepping Quackity can feel his chest aching.</p><p>“Thanks, Tommy,” he says and means it.</p><p>“I know what it’s like to lose an animal,” Tommy continues, his tone simultaneously full of so much emotion and sounding so monotone and caved off it has Quackity’s head spinning.</p><p>Curious and surprised, Quackity turns his head, blinking at the boy. “You had a pet?” He asks, softly, almost unable to believe the two of them are actually having a heart to heart, something he knows their relationship needs. </p><p>Tommy nods, a glimmer of bittersweet happiness there as if he were recalling upon a memory of the pet. Quackity wouldn’t be surprised if he was. </p><p>“I did,” he confirms verbally, and Quackity only knows this is affecting him through the fact he can just barely pick out a controlled wobble in the younger's voice, something he could easily gloss over if he wasn’t listening intently. “She was one of those little rat dogs that Bad has,” he laughed, and the laugh sounded almost wet, “named her Lois.” </p><p>“I’m sorry about your pet, too, man. Losing them is so fucking hard,” Quackity sighs heavily, recalling the fact he had had another pet before Tiger. Clark, he knows. A fat grey and white cat he loved to death.</p><p>“I read this little story on the internet the other day about this place called The Rainbow Bridge,” Tommy said softly, and Quackity knows immediately where this is going, having heard it before himself. “Your pets wait for you on one side of the bridge, happy and healthy, and when you come through you two meet again. It’s just something really sweet. I found it to be really comforting even if I don’t really believe in Heaven or the afterlife much myself.” </p><p>“I know what you mean,” Quackity nodded, shuffling just a bit closer so the two of them were pressed together, getting support and giving comfort as he allowed himself a moment to be vulnerable, knowing Tommy had done it as well. He managed to keep a surprised question when he found Tommy gave off heat like a furnace, warm and comfortable. Clearing his throat, he said softly, “It’s a nice sentiment, however true or untrue it is.” </p><p>Tommy sniffed, giving a small little wet exhale that resembled a snorting laugh. </p><p>They sit in silence for a bit, Quackity knowing it's entirely for Tommy to steel himself, calm himself and get rid of any sad emotions. Quackity can’t help but feel almost honoured Tommy was willing to let his guard drop like that, happy Tommy trusts him enough to even allow himself to feel emotions other than anger or denial. </p><p>They’re sitting in silence again, and Tommy breaks it once more.</p><p>“Your parents are wrong, you know,” he says, tone strong and serious, like he was ready to hammer his point in over and over again until Quackity believed him.</p><p>Quackity sighed, ready to argue as he said Tommy’s name with a warning note, though Tommy cut him off immediately.</p><p>“They are, you absolute dumbass. Whatever they’re doing and saying to you is stupid and wrong and you aren’t anything they say you are,” Tommy says sternly, turning to glower at Quackity with his lips curled into a snarl, obviously ready to argue himself. “I don’t know what the Hell is going on over there with you and them but I want you to know and hold onto the fact they’re cowards. And if anything ever happens you’re absolutely welcome to stay over, Phil and the others would say the same. Can you promise me that you’ll come here if anything happens?”</p><p>Quackity holds a silently panicking staring contest with Tommy, his eyes wide and confused and puzzled, wondering why Tommy was so hellbent on helping him. </p><p>“Tommy I-” He tries, knowing making promises is the number one way to ruin things, something he seems to be a pro at.</p><p>“Quackity,” Tommy says back, copying the warning note he had used earlier in his own words, and somehow it sounds more intimidating in his mouth.</p><p>Quackity sighs, turning his head to stare down at his hands, looking at the crescent shapes he had dug into his palms, stinging slightly despite no skin having been broken. He saw no reason to lie. He knows Tommy only wants to help, and if that took him promising he’ll come to them for help then so be it. </p><p>“Fine,” he finally relents, nodding his head slightly, “I promise I’ll come to you if anything happens.”</p><p>The smile Tommy gives him is bright enough Quackity can feel it burning his eyes, but he can feel his own smile on his face, feeling important and somehow loved, something he doesn’t exactly feel very often these days. </p><p>“Good man,” Tommy hums, bringing his arm around to give Quackity’s back a few hearty slaps, guffawing loudly when Quackity splutters, choking on his own spit on one of the slaps. </p><p>“Stop it, Jesus, I’m not choking,” he hacks, bringing his own hands around to flail and hopefully hit Tommy, grateful when his hand connects with something and the hand trying to actually fully slap him pauses, cut off by an accusing yell. </p><p>“You hit my bloody eye!” Tommy whines, and as Quackity looks over he finds Tommy is dramatically curled over, his two hands pressing into his eye as if Quackity had taken it. </p><p>“You were slapping me, it was self goddamn defense,” he snarks back, feeling zero remorse for the boy complaining beside him.</p><p>“If you fall again I’m not catching you.” </p><p>“You’d really like to go to Juvie or whatever for killing me?”</p><p>“For the last time, it wouldn’t kill you! You’d, like, break your bone or whatever but that’s a small price to pay.” </p><p>“Have you ever fallen from the roof?” </p><p>“ . . .”</p><p>“So you wouldn’t know! That could very well kill me.”</p><p>“I mean, a frog fell from here once and it survived.”</p><p>“I doubt this would kill a frog. Especially with the grass.”</p><p>Tommy scoffed and rolled his eyes, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “I came here to help and you’re literally making me want to leave.” </p><p>“You started it,” Quackity fires back with what has to be the oldest insult in the book, probably not even considered effective anymore. </p><p>“Shut up. I want to enjoy this, it’s surprisingly nice up here,” Tommy grunts, and shuffles closer this time to press them together again. </p><p>Quackity forces himself not to jolt, instead relaxing with a low and long sigh, finding, again, Tommy generated and wafted heat like a furnace. Something they definitely need up here, even if probably would be a fire hazard. </p><p>They find themselves in a comfortable silence once more, feeling warm and light and exhausted where they leaned on each other. Quackity couldn’t help but feel grateful Tommy appeared, knowing if he hadn’t he’d still be up here, though he’s not sure in what mental state. </p><p>He sighs tiredly and lets his head loll, falling onto the boy's bony shoulder covered under some thick padding of the coat he’s wearing and settles heavily.</p><p>“You know, I’m glad I was awake and I found you up here,” Tommy’s voice breaks him out of his stupor, his voice sounding like the added hour of this was finally tiring him out, a sort of slur beginning to edge his words. </p><p>Quackity couldn’t blame him, he could feel his eyes lidding, body beginning to just slightly sag where he was already hunched over. </p><p>“I’m glad you found me too,” he hums back, his eyes lidded and glossy, watching the streaks of light from the sources of light he was staring at move with the exhausted and slow blink he did. “Thank you for helping me out,” he mumbled back softly, curling in his legs from the warm spots he had made on the roof. </p><p>“Of course, Big Q,” Tommy mutters back, bringing his hands to his lap to pick at the uneven serrated edges of his fingernails. “I’m here, man.”</p><p>“Well, if we’re going to be sappy I guess I’m here for you too,” Quackity laughs breathlessly, feeling Tommy’s shoulders shaking with his silent laughter under his head. </p><p>They fall back into a comfortable silence, Quackity using it to collect his thoughts. He honestly can’t believe the one big leap they needed in order to become closer was to have an emotional baggage venting session on top of a roof at what has to be three in the morning by now. It’s something he doesn’t doubt he’ll find funny when he wakes up again tomorrow and lays there trying to recall what happened. It’s what they needed though, and he can’t help feeling thankful this happened. </p><p>Unexpectedly even to him, he ends up breaking the silence this time. </p><p>“Do you ever wonder what life would be like if we had, like, super-advanced technology?” He asks quietly, staring up at the moon that had moved quite far, now a bit more to the right. “Like, if we could travel to the deepest part of the oceans or if we had taken over our small part of the Universe?” </p><p>Tommy takes a moment to answer, and in that short time, Quackity wonders if maybe the question was too much, though he can’t find a reason why. There’s no reason to worry though. </p><p>“Well, I’m assuming everything would be much easier,” Tommy hums, and Quackity snorts, agreeing. “I’m guessing a lot of things would be different. Why? Wishing you were in some alternate timeline or whatever?”</p><p>Quackity shrugs, unsure why even to himself. “Just curious,” he mumbles tiredly, just above something inaudible. “It just sounds pretty cool, even if it’d take years upon years to happen.” He yawns tiredly, turning his face into Tommy’s jacket, letting his eyes fall completely shut as he could feel sleep's gentle void begin to overtake him entirely. </p><p>“Well, one day. I guess,” Tommy mumbles back, sounding just as tired, which is oddly amusing to him. </p><p>“One day,” Quackity repeats, slurred and tired as he let himself completely fall prey to sleep. The last thing he felt was Tommy deftly unzipping his jacket to make sure it enclosed both of them, and then there was nothing.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So like totally thanks for reading lmao I have no other stories but I mean why not have it about Minecraft amiright lol<br/>Yeah this turned into a total fluff session, I guess there was enough angst whatever<br/>Yup yup that happened</p></blockquote></div></div>
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